


Ineffable Shorts

by OntheMeander



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ancient History, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pompeii, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OntheMeander/pseuds/OntheMeander
Summary: A series of historical-based shorts about those Good Omens boys.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 19





	1. Hide and Seek (Eden with soulmates/marks)

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to read more or even request a story. I have a list of prompts you can pick from a pinned post on my Tumblr  
> @OntheMeander.

What is Happiness? Well if one would want to know they might ask a psychologist, anyone, worth their salt would say, refer to subjective well-being, giving long probing answers that in the end make you have to answer the very question you posed. If asking a philosopher, they would point to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and each invidious rung of the ladder, while also citing a few handfuls of books written by very boring old men with very obscure Russian sounding names. A theologian would regurgitate a long bible passage than send you off with a pat on the head wafer cookie and the direct orders to avoid sin. Then if you asked an influencer, they would give you the most concise answer, by showing you a meme. This meme to be precise.

Unfortunately, there were no influencers on hand and Psychology had a good two millennia before being created. This is before all of that.

In the garden, happiness didn’t exist as an emotion to be felt but as a way of life, just like Yoga and veganism. Both of which also incidentally happened in the garden to some compacity. However, at this particular moment, all the occupants of the Garden were interested in a new game called Hide and seek.

It is a simple game, doesn’t take much to win. It works as simple as this; a mark is bestowed on one’s body than you along with everyone else seek out the others with a matching mark. Every Bird, fish, bug, Reptile, mammal, and plant had a match. Could be one, maybe two or even three but there is always a match. For Adam and Eve, there was only one. Both had a mark, just a simple curved line along one rib, marking them as destined to be.

It was a gift from God. One of the hundreds in the Garden of Eden, that made the life there so unbelievably heavenly. Never left with want or need. Well… at least for the living. The snake however didn’t have a mark, now that could be because it is hard to mark scales but a more likely reason would be that this wasn’t a snake but the demon Crawley.

Crawley is curled currently up, hiding beneath the shade of a palm, ignoring the loud amours noises of other inhabitants. ‘Disgusting’ he thought, flicking his tongue in reproach. It was another perfect day in the garden of Eden and Crawley was bored. All anyone wanted to do was play this new Hide and Seek game the Archangels had told them about and that left very little for an unmarked creature like Crawley to do. He was opting to just sleep it out. He was here to make trouble but the head office didn’t give him a deadline, so what was a few dozen naps going to hurt.

The breeze was crisp and balmy, perfect for warming his coiled body while he snoozed. Oh, and what a lovely snooze it was until it was rudely disturbed, “Oh, you poor thing. All alone?” A charmingly proper voice pulls Crawley from his tenth nap of the day. Looking up crawly hisses in an insult at the creature daring to disturb him.

Rearing back, Crawly snaps his jaws onto the angel’s extended hand. His two largest fangs, go through the skin like it is water.

“Ouch. Now that was not very nice my dear!” The angel tutted, not sounding that bothered in the slightest. He didn’t even flinch. Instead of keeping his hand extended and clamped tight in the snake’s jaws. Crawley blinked at the angel. There was no holy anger, no righteous rage.

The pale man is all curved edges and angelic love. He is so full of love, in fact, his belly is round and looks ready to burst at the seams. One looks at the genuine expression on that face and Crawley thinks ‘well this isn’t so bad’.

Gentle blue eyes look down at him, not an ounce of judgment in them. With equally soft fingers, the angel slowly bends down to pet the top of Crawley’s scales and all Crawley thinks is ‘He is breathtaking.’

With tentative apprehension, Crawley let loosen the grip of his jaw. Slick with ethereal blood, Crawley’s fangs slip free of the two punctures. Two perfect circles in the center of the angels left hand. Healed, without a drop of blood hitting the ground. The angel just continued to smile and pet Crawley’s head. “Now see, that’s so much nicer isn’t it.”

Crawley hummed, happy to accept the petting and kind words that poured out of the angel’s mouth like the honeyed wind down the sides of a jar. Little compliments that tinkle like charms in the air. Things like “I’ve never felt softer scales. Your eyes look like stars there is such wisdom in them. You must be a cunning creature.” Every single passionate sentence uttered by the angel burned out a little more the hellfire in the snake’s heart.

As the sun began to set on its second day, the animals laid down to rest. Eve with her Adam curled up along the fruit trees and silence fell over the garden.

“Oh dear,” The angel said, setting up, looking to the East. Crawley’s coiled body started to slip off the soft arms and torso they were wrapped around. “I must go now. Please stay safe.” The angel said, giving the snake a small kiss on the head. With a wave of his marked hand, the angel left and Crawley was all alone again.

For hours, Crawley slithered along the garden watching others hide and seek, himself seeking out the soft angel. As the sun began to rise the creatures of the Garden rose once more and began another day of energetic Hide and Seek. Crawley watched them from a high branch on the apple tree, then an idea started to form in his head. A wicked idea, that guaranteed a little bit of trouble.

Curving his body, Crawley sinking his own fangs into his own hand. Slowly he extracts his long fangs, what is left is a pair of deep punctures that instantly scars over without a drop of blood. They are perfectly placed in the center of his left hand. A mark that is nearly identical in every way to the now ‘hiding’ Angel.

Now he just had to seek out his match. As he slithered away, he barely spared a thought for the pump juicy red apple that tumbled to the ground, at Eve’s feet.


	2. The Right Thing (Pompeii with Hurt/comfort)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When disaster hits Crowley and Aziraphale are faced with how powerless they truly feel in that ineffable design.

Crowley stepped back from the wall, wiping the dust off his hands, taking in his handy work with glee. He jumped slightly when an over cheery voice behind him said, “Crowley? What are you doing here?” Turning on his heels he saw a plump man in a white toga and smiling prettily at him.

“Well, hello there Aziraphale. Just flew in this morning, just popped in for a drink and some sinning. He flicked a hand in the direction of a raucous bar across the street, where men were yelling over dice bets and children downed goblets of herbed wine like it was milk. “The wine here is supposed to be the best in all the Roman Empire.”

“Mmm… yes, I suppose it is.” The angle agreed to look a little hesitant as he watched an adult fill up the child’s goblet once more. Turning a back around, Aziraphale looked over Crowley’s shoulder at the message on the wall carved in jagged roman letters; _The finances officer of the emperor Nero says this food is poison._ “the Anchovies were deplorable.” He hummed more to himself.

“And what brings your heavenly presence to this debouched part of town?” Crowley slinked in closer, smiling up at the angel with all the charm he could muster.

“It is where I am most needed.” The angel snipped, folding his arm in authority.

“If that is the case then, I was thinking of popping over to the Baths if you would like to join me.” Crowley flicked his tongue out teasingly. Enjoying the flustered blush that spread across the angel’s cheeks.

“I think that would be completely improper.” He tutted, his eyes dodging to look at anything besides Crowley. He was cute when he was embarrassed. Crowley was going to enjoy every second of teasing this man for the rest of his time on this earth.

“Come now Aziraphale, it’s not like it’s the brothels… Though if that more your speed.” Just as Crowley prepared for another round of fumbled sentences and reddening ears, the ground underneath their feet began to shake. Roof tiles above them, began to rattle like dried bones on a chain, clanking together in a chattering beat. The earth was rumbling

“Another one?” Aziraphale looks equally confused and concerned. Crowley didn’t know what to think, there were never these kinds of shakes in Eden. He didn’t even know that the earth could shake like this. “They have been happening for the last few days.” Slowly the trembling began to slow down until it was like it hadn’t even happened.

That is when Crowley noted something else odd, “Do you hear that?”

“No?” Aziraphale’s answer sounded more like a question. Crowley nodded.

“Neither do I.” There wasn’t a bird to be heard. No singing. No chirping. Not even the flapping of wings. It was like they had all but vanished or fled from something terrible. Looking into the sky, Aziraphale noticed the blue turning black, Like the sun was setting at 8am. It was a massive cloud, bellowing from Mount Vesuvius. As the darkness grew, droplets started to fall from the growing cloud.

“Rain?” Aziraphale asked, holding his hand out just as a drop landed in his palm. It was black as night and instantly started to sear the pale skin of his hand.

“That’s ash.” Crowley grabbed the chunk, the sizzling stopping as the demon had felt worse. Ash was falling from the sky like demented raindrops, setting canvas on fire and singing the skin of confused humans.

Aziraphale started to become concerned and frantic, rushing out of the alley into the main street. People were coming out of the homes, all craning their necks to look at the rumbling mountain. Only to duck back inside once they felt the feet radiating from the sky. Ash was starting to fall everywhere, collecting in the folds of Aziraphale’s toga, turning his platinum angle soft hair a sickly grey. His eyes were so cold as he stared at Crowley, “Is this your doing?”

Crowley shook his head fervently. He had absolutely no clue what was going on, but he knew who to ask, “I am going to check the home office.” With the crack of lightning, a hole in the ground opened up, creating an entrance into hell. Crowley quickly hopped into it; the opening sealing instantly leaves Aziraphale alone staring at where the demon used to be.

Unsure what to do with himself, Aziraphale started to just walk the streets of Pompeii, taking in the concerned looks of the humans. Hours passed, the ash was getting thicker, weighing down the building's roofs till they started to bend and buckle like a rope strong between two trees. Aziraphale kept telling anyone he saw to get inside, worried about them being burned.

The passes through all the streets of Pompeii three times before he sees any sign of the old snake demon.

Without warning, Aziraphale tripped, like a hole in the ground suddenly grew, his sandal snagged and he fell forward onto the ashy ground. He coughed up dirt, the grit thick in his mouth. And suddenly grabbed him around the middle and started to pull him up.

“Run!” Screamed Crowley, just as an enormous booming noise rattle the world. Glass shattered and children screamed as the massive black cloud collapsed on the city.

A sudden a wave of heat washed down onto them. The fire seemed to spark magically out of nowhere. Both extended their wings and, with a great jump, ascended into the sky. Leaving behind the city and its occupants choking on the noxious gas.

“What is happening Crowley!?” Aziraphale demanded, his wings feeling heavy from the coating of ash it collected on the way up.

“Vesuvius just erupted.” Crowley yelled, trying to be heard over the screams of the people below, “Everyone will be dead by tomorrow.”

“Is this your people?” Aziraphale asked, watching as literal fires of hell seemed to grow on the earth below

“No!” An accusation in the demon’s voice, as if this was Aziraphale’s fault.

“Well it isn’t us either, they would have told me or… or given them some kind of test. This must just be nature happening.”

“God is nature!” Crowley spat with all the rage of an angel expelled from Heaven, “So, she just decides to burn them up because she can.” Aziraphale was aghast at even the idea that Heaven would do such a thing. There was no reason for this, no reason for heaven to bring down such an act of wrath.

Aziraphale frantically shook his head no. That couldn’t be true, there was no way that that was possible. “You know she doesn’t do that anymore. She had no control when the humans decided to build their homes next to a Volcano.”

“Are you kidding?” Crowley was getting angrier and angrier, the glass on his sunglasses was cracked and he actually ripped them off, chucking them into the unknown. His eyes were gold and glittering, “She is God all she has is control.”

The air was harder to breathe and Aziraphale could feel himself starting to hyperventilate, “Tragedies are always going to happen Crowley. I don’t think this was either of our home offices.”

“We have to do something.” Crowley remanded, starting to fly back and forth like he was pacing. Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s feather ruffled in agitation. His eyes becoming glossier and redder.

“We can’t interfere.”

“Why not?” That’s when Aziraphale realized, his eyes weren’t sparking with rage. Crowley was crying.

“Must you question everything?” Aziraphale felt his own eyes starting to burn. He felt powerless, completely helpless as the screams below become louder.

“Demon.” He gestured to himself that said ‘look at me’, “It’s in the job description.” With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, a sudden hush comes over the city. Crying ceases screaming stops, the sound of running stops dead in its tracks.

“What did you do?” Aziraphale sniffed, scrubbing at his eyes.

“I put them to sleep. All of them.” Crowley growls, eyes looking like a wet steal, glistening but cold. The pair fly around the city, checking for any sound what so ever. In every home, family curled together, sleeping. It was almost peaceful even as another scalding wave of heat rushed over their bodies, killing thousands instantly. “They won’t… they won’t suffer any more than they have to. Just went to sleep.”

And they stayed asleep, long after the ash fell and the fires went out, encasing every living thing in its own pompous tomb. Crowley and Aziraphale watched it all, from the safety of the air, they watched every painstaking minute of it in silence. White, that was all that was left when the final cloud dispersed. White ash coated the land and what once was a thriving city was now buried nearly to the point of invisibility. Aziraphale kept a tight hold on the demon, he couldn’t let go. If he did then he would feel utterly alone. It was better to feel alone with Crowley than alone without.

Slowly the pair lowered themselves to the ground. Together, hand still clasped with one another, they took their first tentative steps through the destroyed city. Aziraphale didn’t know how long they walked for. There was no way to tell time. No sun to see. No people going about their day. Nothing. No matter how far they walked there was just nothing but ash and wreckage.

Crowley stopped, suddenly feet skidding in the dust, and he stared. Aziraphale turned to his companion confused about his interest. Following his line of sight, he saw what had frozen the demon so. There, tucked between the walls of an ally were two figures, entombed forever in their own ashen prison, embracing. A shock of love came through Aziraphale, the leftover remains of these people's last moments. Above them was frantically scratched Graffiti stating; _We two dear men, friends forever, were here. If you want to know our names, they are Gaius and Aulus._

Slowly, worried he would be rebuffed, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand into his own, “ You did the right thing, Dear.” Crowley’s shoulder tremble, his head dropped low and to the side, trying to hide the tear screaks cutting through the ash that caked their faces. Aziraphale squeezed his hand, feeling his own tears wanting to fall. “You did the ri-“

The air slammed out of Aziraphale’s chest as suddenly Crowley was hugging him with bone-crushing strength. Crowley pressed his face in tightly to the crook of Aziraphale neck. His tear collecting there, dampening the angel’s dirty toga. Over the top of red hair, Aziraphale could see Crowley's shoulder and back heaving with silent sobs. Wrapping his arms around the demon Aziraphale did whey angels do best, he started to chant.

Aziraphale just kept repeating the chant “You did the right thing. You did the right thing. You did the right thing.” Over and over. A one-man celestial orchestral that repeated the chant as the city disappeared from human consciousness. He repeated it in 1748 when the city was rediscovered. He repeated it when Crowley asked him to visit the newly redesigned museum. He repeated it as they stood in front of the display of entombed bodies, those lovers still clinging to each other. He repeated it as they sat in Crowley’s bed, cradling the tearful demon, whispering it in-between kisses to the man’s temple.

And Aziraphale would be sure to repeat it no matter how many times the demon needed to hear it.


	3. Big Bang (Pre-fall/First Kiss)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wonder how the angels made all the stars?

Have you ever stopped and thought, how is a Galaxy made? Oh, I am sure you have, you are brilliant, after all. Now for Millenia humans have stared up into the great beyond of that night sky and thought. How could all of this be made? Now some modern scientists claim it is from the Big Bang some thirteen billion years ago. This is incorrect.

It’s all rather fantastical of an idea if you think about it, the smallest things in the world making the biggest explosion, and one that came about simply because humans wouldn’t stop asking. At first, they were content with the answer god made it but then the questions come and as the questions become more profuse and insistent God found she had to keep making up more excuses. She couldn’t tell such young creatures the truth, they were far too young, innocent, and naïve for that. They would just have to wait until they were older to learn.

For you see the universe and all the many galaxies could be made simple when two angels make love. Not to be confused when God literally created love but greatly inspired by it and no less an homage to her magnum opus.

“Alright Everybody, Big day today! We are making stars!” Said the indescribably mass, that one theologian desired as ‘They are like described as like balls… with lots of eyes on them. Like orbs. Like orbs with eyes and wings. Yeah, eyes and wings. They are beings of another dimension so they can’t take human form… and are very bright…. That’s in the bible but there are a lot of theological theories but that’s like from the bible’, also known as Gabriel announces, “Line up for assignment!”

One by one the ineffable waves known as angels got into an orderly line. “Michael, 18-mark-205-mark-47. Uriel 002/3845. Morning Star 0009-358070690 0009-407764209. Raphael 070-mark-3.” A mass that one could unmeritedly be confused as a redhead agreed, leaving the line to head to their point of the universe. As they started to walk they heard Gabriel still shouting orders, “Aziraphale 070-mark-63.”

Reaching their point of the universe Raphael and Aziraphale begin the laborious task of creating Stars. The empty void was filled with the sounds of snapping as an endless number of angels worked to create their stars.

Hours, or days maybe years it is hard to tell when the time had yet to be invented by God, passed as they worked. The slow repetition of snap. Star. Snap. Star. Snap. Star.

“Your stars are so beautiful.” Aziraphale complements, the warm words bounding of passing planets. “You make it look so easy.”

“Yours is very clear.” Raphael returned the praise for it was true. Surely they would be seen from thousands of miles away.

“Yours have so much color to them.” Aziraphale stepped closer to Raphael, leaning in closer till their brightness started to mingle. The fusion creating things up the pair’s incorporeal forms.

“Yours is so full of energy.” Raphael drew closer, letting their stars start to mingle between quadrants and becoming one.

“Yours are as pretty as you.” Aziraphale nearly gasped as they faded, morphed, and mixed together. Excitement rushed through the pair as they and their stars mixed more and more with each snap.

Angels have notoriously large personal bubbles. If measured from end to end they would extend the length of the Great Wall of China by 1.873 times. Being this close now made Aziraphale and Raphael feel something new. This was a new terrain, a whole new universe of feelings and excitement the angels were feeling. It’s all-encompassing, intoxicating and they both want more.

In a rush of excitement, they pressed, what could only be vaguely compared to, lips together. A warmth passed between the two making the pair moan and roll together, creating swirling milky ways in their wake. As soft kisses are exchanged three new suddenly stars burst into existence, twinkling in technicolor.

“Did you see that?” Raphael exhales in excitement, that place that would have lips tingling from the warm kiss, “So many stars so fast. Do you think?”

Indiscernible hands begin to fondle vaguely formed bodies. Tentative fingers creating the first goosebumps. Pleasure rolled through Aziraphale as Raphael we absolutely devotional with their kisses. Raphael gave ecstatic hums being given the beautiful view of Aziraphale’s euphotic features. Flushed, with their eyes rolled back, and mouth open to sigh. The moans out of Raphael’s lips were clear, twinkling like thousands of stars that were bursting around them. Aziraphale’s eyes become luminescent with endless and unknown colors. The passionate energy grew and grew as folds and corners of each other were rubbed, stroked, kissed, sucked, and worshipped

In a final burst of ecstasy a massive explosion of colors happens all around them, and from that comes the universe first sun. So big and bright it almost as bright as the intertwined angels themselves.

“Beautiful.” The couple sighed, content to finally rest.


	4. Star-crossed "Friends"  (Witch Trials/Hurt/Comfort)

Sauntering through the swinging doors, onto the Globe’s dirt Pit Crowley found his Cohort quickly amongst the sparse audience members. Upon the stage a young boy, who couldn’t be more than 16, was trying his best to deliver an emotional speech as Catherine of Aragon, on trial refusing to acknowledge her husband’s new marriage to Anne Boleyn. It was a poor performance with the boy unable to capture either Catherine’s fiery Spanish lisp or her tendency to regurgitate quote obscure literature mid-conversation.

The crowd seemed about as interested as the actor was in his dialogue, milling about, chatting with one another and even a few drunken ones entertaining themselves with throwing lewd comments at the tearful Catherine. Among all the muck, Crowley could easily spot his Angel, in his traditional all-white garb, hanging back almost in the shadows of the amphitheater.

Sliding on up beside the angel, Crowley plucked a grape from the distracted man. “Another Drama?” He all but purred into the man’s ears. His sudden proximity making the man jump with a start and nearly drop his snack, a pleasing rising high on his cheeks, “Angel, you know I hate these.”

His Angel doesn’t say anything, he just fidgets and refuses to look at Crowley at all. Circling the man, he takes in his air of discomfort, “Angel?”

“The arrangement is over, Crowley.” He suddenly says still refusing to even look at Crowley. The demon rolled his eyes, why did they have to have this conversation every other year. Snagging another grape, Crowley tossed it into there and catching it with his mouth.

“Why?” He asked around while chewing the fruit, if he had to do this song and dance again, he might as well help himself to some free food. Aziraphale, most shockingly, didn’t even pretend to care. Normally I Crowley wanted his attentions he would just take the angel's food and the man would be glaring at him instantly.

“The arrangement is over,” Aziraphale repeated himself, in a louder slightly breathless insistent tone. It was the one he liked to use when he wanted Crowley to know that he thought the demon was being ridiculous, “I refuse to do it.”

“Yes, I go that. I asked why.” It shouldn’t be that big of a problem. Edinburgh was an easy assignment. In fact, they had just been talking a month ago about the worst part being riding those damnable horses.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” Aziraphale repeated again, starting to sound like a broken… broken… something broken that repeats. What repeats when it breaks? Not important. Angel was being ridiculous.

“What? Teaching children to read and write to radicals of an assignment for you?” He snorted at his own joke, Aziraphale hating books would be a sign of the apocalypse.

The duo grew completely silent, just standing there staring at the stage with no real interest. Crowley, bored with the play before he even got there, mostly watched Aziraphale from his periphery. Slumping against the wall dividing the pit from the seats, he starts to take stock of his partner’s continence. Slowly he sees the placidly perfect look on his face that his angel normally has slipped into sorrow. Whatever was bothering Aziraphale it was more than the standard, going against god makes me uncomfortable.

Kicking up some dirt with his long toe shoes, Crowley gives his own tired sigh “Angel, what really happened?” He asked once more in a softer tone.

“The Edenborough assignment was a witchcraft trial.” Aziraphale practically whispered the despair on his face seeping into his voice.

“Oh… That is not ideal.” Crowley hummed, he had only death with a few of those thankfully. They always tended to end messy, what with the nudity and all of humanity seemingly agreeing overnight that if they saw a demon, they had to immediately get naked and bed him. He may be the creator of the original sin, but Crowley preferred a bit more wooing before, at least one dinner would be nice, “Did the lady sign the book?”

“No.” Aziraphale sounded in pain. Crowley was just happy, that meant there was probably no attempted consummation. He doubted his angel would be up for some of the kinky things these repressed protestants expected from a demon.

“Then what’s the problem, Angel? It’s not like you got her killed, she never signed th-“

“She couldn’t sign the book Crowley because she was nine!” He shouted, dragging the few audience members, and even the young actor to stare at them. Several people start to whisper amongst themselves, seeing the two wealthy dressed men in the pit of the globe for a boring matinee was bound to cause interest.

“Sorry, Sorry, keep going.” Crowley waved to everyone, telling them to ignore everything. “He just got excited. Too much for him and whatnot.” He gave a charmingly smarmy smile, which seems to be enough for the young actor to try and pick up where he left off. Too bad he didn’t seem to remember his lines.

“Come here.” Crowley grabs Aziraphale by the arm and all but drags him to the back of the theater. He grabs a seat against the back wall, tucked behind a pillar and out of the view of prying eyes.

That’s when Crowley started to notice the disheveled look on the other man. His white clothes were actually stained dirty, his hair was a wild mess from him running his hands through it. Worst of all, for maybe the first time ever Crowley noticed that he wasn’t standing with the ramrod-straight back that made all angels look like they had a pole up their arse. Whatever happened was tearing the angel apart. He barely looked like an angel at all anymore, har to imperfect and almost human.

“Azira-“

“She was nine and that didn’t stop them from torturing and killing her.” Crowley closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. He feels suddenly heavy and tired, the memory of past witch trials echoing in his memory. They were always violent affairs and death was usually the only outcome to be expected.

Crowley happily took the credit for the mayhem but that didn’t make it any easier to see so many women killed simply for being nonconforming. Yes, sometimes he got involved but the worse thing he ever did was teach the women to read and plant the seeds questioning the establishment. Why is asking questions seemingly the worse sin one can commit?

What didn’t make even less sense though was why his angel was assigned to be there at all. When it came to witch trials God is usually absent. He had to ask, “What was your assignment supposed to be?”

“I was to speak the good word to a neighbor.” Crowley knows he has a look on his face that says what does that have to do with anything?

“He used it as proof that the girl was a Witch.”

“I got her killed.” Tears started streaming down Aziraphale’s plump cheeks. His blue eyes look completely shattered, a light that Crowley too comfortable in had been snuffed out. That scared him so deeply he was almost rolling with it.

Moving before he could talk himself out of it, Crowley raps a long arm around Aziraphale. Dropping it low to wrap around the angles back. He leans in tighter to close the crying man in a hug. Aziraphale’s shivering body suddenly going rigid at the warm embrace.

“Crowley, we can’t do this here.” Aziraphale tries to pull away, sniffing, rubbing at his running nose, tears still streaming. Crowley refuses to let him go. With a snap of his fingers, Crowley guarantees that they won’t be bothered by anyone who might object to two men publicly embracing.

“No one is going to see.” Crowley comforts him, as he pulls Aziraphale’s head tighter into the nook of his neck. Rubbing his hands along his angels back, Crowley draws chaotic patterns along the fine silk brocade on the doublet. Laying his head against Aziraphale soft downy hair, he quietly basks in the natural pine scent wafting from it. Aziraphale cries become muffled as he presses into Crowley’s body.

Crowley so desperately wanted comfort Aziraphale, denying that he had and hand in killing the girl. Humans were going to kill no matter what. He couldn’t though, the words felt hollow. They both knew that their actions did have a hand in these tragic events. Even if they were just doing what their home office wanted that didn’t feel like a good excuse to be washed clean of the guilt. Guilt was an emotion Crowley could manage; he had been carrying it with him every day since he took the saunter into hell.

Aziraphale though, was soft. In the best of ways. He was tender and kind-hearted and wasn’t ready to handle that kind of guilt that weighs you down like being tether to a rock at the bottom of the river. Crowley didn’t know what he could say to his angel to ease the pain. He just hugged tighter, hummed a soft unknowable tune, and tried to exude a type of love that Aziraphale could sense.

Slowly the sobbing started to slow, tears started to dry and that waterfall of emotions started to slow to a simple trickle. The guilt and misery weren’t gone yet, wouldn’t be for decades, but it was exhausted. They were both exhausted in a way that they hadn’t been since the great flood.

“I miss the days of making stars.” Crowley finally admitted. This ripped a high-pitched giggle out of Aziraphale. He started to convulse in a weird combo of laughing and crying. He was adorable in his confusion.

“We are a mess,” Aziraphale confirmed, actually smiled as he scrubbed at his eyes to wipe away the tears.

Crowley gave him a soft smile, wiping away at a stray tear track that the angel had missed.

“A pair of star-crossed friends” He teased, remembering the good old days when things were just simpler. Life was so easy when there were only three galaxies to manage. The pair spent a few more minutes just relaxing. Basking in the loose-limbed feeling that only a good cry could conjure in the body. As the play was coming to a lack of lust end, Crowley started to shift.

“Come on angel. Let’s go get you a drink.” Crowley had a bottle of brandy with their names on it back at his place. The pair stood up and together left the globe theater, slipping out the back without being noticed by most.

One man though watched them go a contemplative look on his face as he looked at the notes in his hands. A chaotic scrabble of half-formed sentences and ideas littered the page. Somewhere scratched out but one entry was circled multiple times. A single sentence with one small edit made to it, friends were scratched out and replace. In its place was the altered sentence. ‘A pair of star-crossed lovers.’


End file.
